


For More Lifetimes to Come

by ohohomos



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of torture and suicide, Reincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohohomos/pseuds/ohohomos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akashi Seijuro had dreams haunted by brown hair and big eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For More Lifetimes to Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stoplight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoplight/gifts).



> A gift for ensui-no (aka exordia) for the AkaFuri Secret Santa Event. To my child, sui. Please accept this error-filled, hopefully good enough fic that I've written for you. I wish you Happy Holidays and Merry AkaFuri Christmas! May we have more AkaFuri from the sequel and good animated Furi action. Cheers!

Dreams had been an enigma for years and without academic help, Jiro would never understand them. He had plenty of dreams that he could never decipher. His dreams are often full of faces he had never met, places he had never been to, and things he had never encountered. The scenarios are too familiar and nostalgic that he’d wake up with the lingering feelings until the last piece of dream would be gone from his memories. But the feelings would linger.

He found himself pondering about it one afternoon and he decided to try to understand them, or at least, cure his curiosity. That night, he placed a piece of paper and a pen on his bedside table and falls into a deep slumber.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

People in uniforms lined in front of him, giving him synchronized salute. He might have ordered them to do something because they dispersed at his words. Next scene, he is in a room full of regal-looking men, those who had the aura of authority on them. They talk about the incoming war and he felt a sense of dread when they turned to look at him. Their faces are hard, as if they’re sending him to his own funeral.

The scene shifted to a room with dim lights. He stared at the man across him. A black haired man with red, feline-like eyes. He moved to look away and he noticed the man did too.

He realized it was a mirror.

His attention shifted to the beautiful woman sitting gracefully in front of him. The woman with long brown tresses and large eyes smiled at him and he felt his heart skip a bit. One moment they are making love, then the next, the woman is crying and smiling at the same time.

‘You’ll come back, right? We’ll meet again, right? We’ll be together forever, right?’ he heard her plea.

It was a dark place, then a blinding light, and a scorching feeling on his left eye. 

Then there was none.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

He woke up as if he run a marathon. His heart’s pounding resonated on his ears, there’s throb on his left eye, and a feeling of helplessness are left overs of the dream. Before he forget, he picked up the paper and pen that stayed there for days and wrote everything he could remember.

The pen and paper were ignored for days, once again, until Jiro found a reason to write again. For days all he could remember is a crying woman, tortured screams, and an implication of broken promise. But last night is a change in routine.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

Steam rose in the air as he stood in a bustling rail station. People are running in every directions, but a lot focused their eyes on him. A brown haired teen caught his attention. He looked out of place. Amidst the elegant clothes and accessories, the boy’s clothes pales in significance. He might have told the boy to leave, because the next thing he knew, the boy was apologizing furiously before taking off. From the distance, he can still see the boy. He was carrying a lot of boxes, going everywhere, delivering it to a person to receive it. On his last box, the boy climb up the flight of stairs, slipped, and fell.

There was a lot of blood.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

Jiro slowly opened his eyes. This one is different from the recurring dream that he had, so he wrote this on a separate sheet of paper. He yawned and went back to sleep.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

He noticed a lot of things. One is the gold band on his ring finger, second is a photo of a couple on the table. The woman is pretty with short, black hair and heart-shaped face, while the man looks calculating, his sharp, gold eyes accented his sharp cheekbones and lips pressed in a thin line. He doesn’t look happy.  
The ring on his hand matches the ring that the couple wore in the photograph.

Third thing he noticed is a cheerful man across his window. He have caramel colored hair and big, smiling eyes. He is running from one table to another, but he looks like he’s enjoying himself. The smiling eyes met his for a moment, and a wave of happiness surged in him when the man smiled more.

Fourth, and the last thing he noticed is the very pang of longing, disappointment, and regret weighing down his chest.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

The feeling was still there when he woke up that day on the chilly month of December. Jiro combs his hand through his newly dyed hair out of frustration. He dyed it red to oppose his father who banned him from visiting his ill mother. He never liked his father. His controlling actions, oppressive moves, sharp words have been the opposite of his mother’s caring touches, understanding mind, and sweet smiles.

He wrote on the piece of paper and stood up. He glanced at the clock to check if he’s late. It reads nine o’clock in the morning, December twenty.

Disappointment and longing swells into him, once again.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

Jiro woke up after the dream. The one with the beautiful, crying woman. He felt his left eye throb again, as if still stinging from the hot acid poured into it on his dream. Unable to go back to sleep, he looked at the collection of papers on his bedside table and studied them, analyzing each dreams. He noticed the repetition of the word ‘brown’. On each stories there is a brown haired person, whether it’s a woman, man, or a boy. Also, big eyes.

He never knew someone with brown hair and big eyes.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

The dreams have taken its toll on Jiro. The horrible images and emotions it delivers disables him to go back to sleep. His father demanded that he should go see a doctor, saying he might have inherit his mother’s illness. Of course, he declined, but his father forced him to go to the hospital.

They diagnosed him as mentally unstable, something that is really far from what he really is. He is just an attention deprived teenager with many things going through his mind, had nightmares that hinders him to have a proper sleep, and preventing him to perform at his best. His father had let him be confined in the institution, saying he didn’t have time to take care of him and left him there.

Alone in the pristine white room.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

Nothing changed, the nightmares come and go. Medicine never helped, they just emphasized that something is wrong. The white ceiling, when stared at for too long, would just show scenarios from his nightmares. Jiro can’t stand it anymore. He hides and collects sleeping pills given to him when he can’t sleep.

Now, he’s drinking them all together.

Here he was; alone in a cold, white room, dying from over dosage of sleeping pills.

He never get to properly meet the man that was issued to be his new doctor from that day on, but he could feel the shaking hands on him. All he could see hazily is the color that haunted him in his sleep.

Brown.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

Akashi Seijuro opened his eyes and stared at the white ceiling. It was not like the sickly white ceiling from his dream. He could see the orange light coming from his window, the gold of his curtain, and the red of his hair. He looked around, spotting the time. It reads seven o’clock in the morning of November eight.

He get dressed for a quick morning run, a preparation for the start of Winter Cup. He had called for a meeting with his past teammates, so he needs to do the warm up quickly. 

The dreams were the last thing in his mind.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

Seijuro had called for his former teammates, but there is someone that should not be there.

“Sorry but, can you leave?”

A flash of the boy in the rail station from his dream materialized on his mind but he ignores it. The brown hair of Kuroko’s teammate also made him remember the beautiful woman who weeps for her lover’s departure. His large, terrified eyes made him think of the smiling eyes of the man who captured his attention in his reveries. But those aren’t thoughts for this moment. Maybe if they’ll meet again.

Maybe by then, he’ll try to understand those dreams again.

-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

Seijuro opened his eyes. He noticed a lot of things. First, the sunray slipping through his curtain on his white ceiling. Second, the red of his hair. Third, the warmth and weight on his side. Fourth, the brown of Kouki’s hair. Fifth, the fondness that spreads in his chest.

Sixth, he had a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

This lifetime, he’ll make sure to keep that promise. An echo of a dream resonates on his ears, and yes, they will.

‘We’ll be together forever, right?’

Yes, they will.


End file.
